To Each, Their Own
by buon I qua
Summary: His was the regret. Hers was the anger. All the greatest, brightest, and kindest of their time had fallen. Perhaps in another life, another time, happiness might find them all.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: I am extremely sad with myself. I already have an on-going fic with tons of things to finish, and yet I could not help digging myself another deep hole full of worms. I love this couple, though, and not writing a thing about them all this time kind of piss me off. So there goes. The first chapter will be an angst fest, mind, since it is still marginally canon-compliant and happens during the same time period as the manga.

* * *

Tomioka Giyuu was a man who had many regrets in life.

He regretted his weakness that forced his sister to die to protect his sorry hide.

He regretted his incompetence that left his friend fallen in battle to rescue him and the useless lot that took the entrance test that year.

But more than anything, he regretted the unfinished business he had with Kochou Shinobu.

* * *

He did not remember a time when he found her unobtrusive. She had been many things to him, but reticent acquaintance had not been one of them. She made fun of him (often), she bullied him (occasionally, if one was to call it such), she intruded in his life with such mother-hen enthusiasm that he could not find it within himself to rebuke her.

It had not occurred to him, the fact that such attitude was problematic in certain ways, not until an off-handed comment from Kanroji splashed a bucket of cold water over him.

"Oh come now, Tomioka-san. It's as if you two are a couple."

The statement probably did not mean to drive home _anything. _Not when they had just finished the meeting that determined the Kamados' fate, not when it had been uttered just as a joke when Kochou became overly agitated defending him in the face of Shinazugawa's blatant antagonism and Iguro's nasty jibe. While he was just standing there, slow-reacting as to how to respond to them and watching as Rengoku laughingly inserting himself into what was developing into a semi-brawl, Kanroji skipped to him and asserted jokingly. She did not wait for any answer and moved to help pull Kochou out of the fray without so much at a backward glance at the dumbstruck Water Pillar behind her.

It was then that Giyuu suddenly realized that the way Kochou and he had been acting around each other was...problematic. She was a girl, near woman-grown. He remembered, almost startlingly. Which meant that her honor and reputation had to be sparkling clean if she was to be a bride one day. The fact that she was a warrior flying about stabbing demons with the pointy end of a sword soaked with poison was already huge enough a drawback in terms of eligibility that questionable conducts with someone of the opposite sex that was not her relatives really should not made itself known. Were their conducts questionable? He tossed and turned in bed pondering this question. They went on several missions together... Pillars rarely do teams, he realized suddenly. Even he had only ever went on team missions with Rengoku twice and with Toukitou once. They had meals together periodically, on and off mission, and never less than twice a month, despite the grueling schedule. They tended to squabble light-heartedly, but all physical contacts of that kind had never held any hint of intimacy or inappropriateness. Not to him, anyway. Giyuu started sweating. What if she herself had felt harassed by those actions? As for verbal interactions...he fought the urge to bolt upright out of mortifications. She teased him around _all the time, _and while most of these contents were alright, she _had_ joked about his supposed impotency for more than twice already. Was that questionable behavior?! If his sister had been alive, Giyuu would have pulverized any man who had dared to get within twenty foot of her, not to mention getting physical, sharing veiled sexual jokes and/or purposefully targeting her meal times without proper chaperone.

In the defense of Kochou's virtue, Giyuu resolved to keep his distance from her for an indeterminable period of time.

For the most part, he was successful.

* * *

Until he wasn't.

Five days after the news of Rengoku's demise, they encountered each other as their missions crossed paths and she rounded on him in the back of an abandoned spot of the train station. For the very first time in his twenty-one years of age, Tomioka Giyuu found himself witnessing a live kabedon, which, incidentally, were also used on him.

" . .San." Kochou was smiling then, a smile so horrifying that he felt the hair at the base of his neck started standing on end. In fact, her eyes were narrowed and veins were popping up all over the places on her forehead. He wondered briefly as to how so much rage would fit inside such a small person.

For a moment, he debated whether to advise her to refrain from bursting a veins - since it was a rather unattractive trait, or to expressionlessly ignore her and hope that she would go away on her own. Despite himself, though, he settled with:

"You are thin." And then, before he could stop himself, "Have you been eating properly?"

She was thin. Haggard, even. Rengoku had been closer to her than any other Pillars (excluding him, of course), and his death seemed to hit her harder than most. That, and maybe because of the alarming increase in the wounded and the bed-ridden amongst the Corps, flooding Butterfly Estate with patients and having her overworking herself.

Some of the veins disappeared and her fake smile faded a bit, but the kabedon stayed and he was increasingly suffocated at how close they were to each other.

"That's what you are going to say? That? After months of avoiding me?" Her voice rose and her frown returned, "And I'm thin? Have _you_ been eating properly?"

He did not notice that he had been losing weight, though admittedly his pants had become looser of late. The number of demons were increasing, and sightings of supposed Twelve Demon Moons had been appearing all over the places. Giyuu turned his head toward the sky and wisely kept his silence.

Normally, she would have launched a volley of nagging words and disapproving reproaches at him, until he craved and uttered some confirmation of sort. Sometimes, she would even get an apology if he was feeling guilty enough about his absentmindedness. Not this time, though. Her silence was profound in the space between them (very small space, seeing as somehow the hands-on-wall-preventing-any-kind-of-escape was still in place) and he could feel her probing stare bore into the side of his face. He heard her sigh, and then the burning attention moved away:

"We would die at anytime, Tomioka-san. The way Rengoku-san did."

He had to keep himself from flinching at the sadness in her voice.

"And once we do, Tomioka-san... I would like to at least know why my friend doesn't even want to see my face."

He did flinch then, so violently that even Kochou seemed to be startled by his expressiveness. She did not take her hands away though. What a stubborn girl. He looked at her, properly this time, and tried to verbalized his thoughts clearly and perspicuously:

"I don't...not want to see your face."

She was looking up at him, her eyes purple, and bigger than he remembered, though that might be because of how hollowed her cheeks were being. He took a breath and decided to be concise and honest:

"We were too casual with each other. People will start misunderstanding."

A pause. He stared at her and she stared at him. Then suddenly, Kochou was convulsed with laughter and nearly fell backward if not for his hand grabbing her shoulder. She gasped between laughter:

"_You, _who got bitten by every kind of animals alike, who got arrested everywhere he went for being an airhead with his sword, who got so confused by social maneuverings that you don't even know when people are leading you by the nose... You! Are acting like a father and worried about, what? My bloody virtue?"

He frown a bit at her:

"Kochou, language."

She was doubling down now, wiping at her tears of laughter and snorting out unladylike:

"Sorry. It's just so funny. God, Tomioka-san. To think that you have been worrying about that. Knowing you, you were probably losing sleep over it as well, no?"

He valiantly refrained from flinching at the accuracy with which she was perceiving him. They were truly too close, if she was able to guess even that.

Now that the kabedon was over, he could breathe properly again and surreptitiously took a step back from her. She noticed, though, and most likely found it amusing, since she gave him her usual teasing smile and very emphatically took a step toward him, effectively driving him to the wall again. (He really should stop being cornered by a girl three years his junior. It was rather embarrassing.)

"Let's finish this first, Tomioka-san." She pronounced his name in a sing-song voice that made his face turned greenish pale and goosebumps appearing on several parts of his upper body.

"I don't..." he started, more than a little unnerved by her aggressiveness.

"You will not avoid me again." She cut him off matter-of-factly. "We can die anytime, Tomioka-san. And most likely I'll die like my sister and all the swordwomen before her, to the hand of a demon. There were barely any marriage over the centuries of the Demon Hunting Corps, less of all for its female members. If that's the case, wouldn't worrying needlessly about virtues and reputations wherein there are a hundred and one things more important to stew about really stupid?"

He shrugged uncomfortably:

"I don't worry about it _all the time_..."

"Well you do worry about it enough time to start avoiding me, no?"

He chose to stay silent to that dig. Her next words were not so easily ignored, however:

"And by the bye, if you are so worried about my womanly reputation, you can just step up and take responsibility."

His blink in response was slow and confused. Responsibility? What was she...? Oh. Oh? _Oh_. There had never been a time when Giyuu was more grateful of his Tomioka's genes, which rendered blush useless on the thick skin that made up their faces. If not, he would have looked pretty flustered by now. Even so, his actual verbal response to her words were still illegible enough that he felt ashamed of himself:

"I...ugh...what?"

Her smile widened mischievously, and Kochou took a step back from him and concluded:

"So it's settled then. We'll resume our habitual meals together, you'll not avoid me again, and you _will_ take responsibility for my virtues and reputation." Swirling on her heels, she walked away from him with a taunting waving hand in lieu of a farewell, "It was nice talking to you, Tomioka-san. Have a wonderful day. See you around."

Not for the first time, he wondered if there would ever be a day when he wasn't bullied into submission in every conversation they had together.

* * *

The next time they met was after the meeting about the Mark.

It was not a happy conversation. She was frustrated and worried that he was too uncooperative for his own good and _what juvenility had taken over him, really? _Nothing could be as important to them as winning the war. They were Pillars, for God's sake. There was no time for sulking, or reminiscing, or regretting. He knew all that, he did, even without her having to put it to words. He knew her _that_ well, after all.

But knowing and willing to respond were two entirely different things.

He could not talk about Sabito. Not yet. Not to her. She was...important, even he had to realize it by then. A bit too important, he recognized with mounting horror. Which was precisely the reason why he would not be able to confide in her about this. There were only so much shame he was willing to parade to someone this important.

So he left her standing there, alone, tired and disappointed.

He could block her out, with marginal success. But he could not block Tanjirou out, try as he might. Besides, Tanjirou was...Tanjirou. You just couldn't help but trust him, and loosen your lips around him. Giyuu was no exception, and he took no shame in doing so a few days later. Cliché, but it truly was like a rock was moved from his chest.

He was still kneeling down, saying farewell to Sabito when he felt her presence. Once more, it was alarming how he memorized even her footsteps. But that day was the day of goodbyes, so he could not distract himself with feelings of the softer kinds.

She was silent as she stood behind him, not quite looming but definitely not as soothing as she often was with him. He felt like it, so he said it, almost without context:

"He would have been the greatest Water Pillar ever walks. It is undeserving that he is there while I am not."

The silence was profound. He could almost feel her breath behind him, though she did not stand that close. A shift of the atmosphere, tiny, but there, and then she kneeled down beside him. Calmly, not looking at him, she bowed before Sabito's grave:

"Thank you for saving him." It was solemn and moving, then she continued, "He is being a nuisance about it, but I am eternally grateful for your kindness."

He could not find it within himself to rebuke her, so he stayed silent. Then she stood up, offered him a hand (which he took), and they walked away together.

* * *

That was the last time he saw her. And his heart broke just thinking about it.

* * *

He had been running and inadvertently exhilarating with adrenaline. All of these happened so fast, the plan, the death of their shared benefactor, the shattering confusion, rage and pain draping all over them with that person's sacrifice. He caught Tanjirou along the way, which was good, since he was worried about this kid and having him close would lessen at least one worry. They rushed through ever-changing halls, knocking over walls and avoiding traps as much as possible.

"Dead! Kochou Shinobu is dead! She died after a confrontation with upper moon two!" The crow screeched.

Giyuu nearly tripped, nearly. He brace himself and did not ease up his pace, though. He could feel Tanjirou almost stumbled behind him, sniffling and crying all the tears that he himself could not let loose. Giyuu could not, must not. He was a Pillar. He did not have the right to mourn her, not when Upper Moon Three and One and Muzan was out there, breathing, and living, and deserving of being sliced into pieces.

On the outside, that was.

On the inside, his head was filled with unbelievable rage and pain. _Liar. Liar! _She had promised that they would go have simmered salmon with daikon once everything was over. She had pestered him and joked about having to bully him into telling her about his days training with Sabito. And now she had left, without even saying goodbye.

Why did he always fail to protect those important to him?

* * *

It was difficult defeating Akaza, somewhat, but it was downright impossible to dissect Muzan. They managed it, somehow. Not without some deaths and most critically wounded. Giyuu sincerely did not know which one he was of the two categories. He was critically wounded, true (if that was how one perceived having lost a leg, nigh broken spine and a deep cut tearing the torso into two diagonally) and he did feel like death was already waving at him enthusiastically on the other side of the river. Death was rather comforting, too, seeing as he could almost see Kochou's dark purple eyes crinkled on Death's face. He wanted to see her, it sunk like a ton of lead. He wanted to see her, and asked her why she could do that without telling him (Tsuyuri was sniffling out the truth when trying vainly to patched him up, and he was incredulous with anger).

He _knew_ that she was a Pillar and there were things Pillar could not shy from. He _knew_ that she had a sister whom she loved more than heaven and earth and would stop at nothing to avenge. He still could not accept it. She did not tell him. And she even promised! She promised...

No. It wasn't her fault. He was aware of that. It was his.

He regretted not telling her sooner. It might have just been borrowed time but at least before her death, she would have known that he loved her. That they would have spent those last few moments together. That they would have finished whatever it was that had been started between them years ago.

And now she was dead and he was on the verge of going as well, without knowing for certain if he would even be allowed to meet her on the other side.

Lord, the pain in his torso was unbearable, and why would Tanjirou had so much tears, anyhow? The kid cried so many times for so many people already that Giyuu half expected that his tears had all dried out by the time it was his turn. It did not, apparently.

He could not hear what the boy was saying, his vision was blurry now, and he could no longer feel his arms and leg. Even the pain seemed so distant. Ah, it seemed Tsuyuri, Nezuko and some other kids he did not know was joining Tanjirou. It had officially turned into a crying fest. He wanted to tell them to knock it off because he did not wish to go to the underworld with all their snots on his chest. But he could no longer open his mouth, and the feeling in his chest had lessened into that of a whisper. He felt like he should feel sad, but not really. He felt anticipation of the sick sort spreading across his heart. He was going to Sabito, and his sister, and Kochou.

_Next time_, he thought, drowsily, _I will come to you, Kochou. _

And then there was darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Kochou Shinobu sometimes felt like she was sick. Very sick. Terminally sick, really. Because that was the only feasible explanation as to how she would have developed a crush on Tomioka-sensei, of all people.

* * *

The first time she met him, she was keenly aware that some village out there must have been missing its idiot (It did not matter that he turned out to be a Tokyo boy/man/dork later). She was late for her own entrance ceremony, which was all her sister's fault, absentmindedly forgetting her lunch and having Shinobu rushed back home to deliver it. She did not feel like barging in through the front gate, with all the attention fixated on the lone first-year kid arriving late for her own welcome ceremony. Her sister had just started working in the infirmary, too. What a shame it would be for them both if this incident were caught in the spotlight. So she climbed the fence and jumped down to the school yard. Except it wasn't the school yard that she landed on. Her feet connected soundly on the back of someone wearing a suit and was sitting down trying to pet the resident ugly cat. He looked stupid from the back, and she was ninety-nine percent certain that he looked pretty stupid on the front as well. Only someone losing a few brain cells and several emotional drives would be caught in that embarrassing position with a cat as ugly as that.

Smiling sweetly, she hopped back away from him and said unapologetically:

"My apologies. As thanks, I will most certainly refrain from divulging this compromising position of yours to the general public. On that note, Ojii-san," She flashed another faux smile, "Are you sure you are alright?"

Slowly, almost lethargically, the man raised himself up and turned to look at her. Well, she was half right. He was pretty _and_ stupid from the front. Beautiful blue eyes and dark hair much longer than conventions, an impressive height and a face young enough to be only a few years her senior. Familiar, too, making her felt the nagging jolt of recognition. Crap. Not a teacher... She could not be that unlucky!

"I'm alright," He said slowly, as if testing out something before putting it to words. He was also looking at her with a queerly intense gaze that made it seem like he knew her at a personal level (It scared her that the fact did not make her uncomfortable. They had just met!). "Are you?"

She snapped out of her stupor and took a tiny step back, smile in place:

"Of course I am." Winding herself up for a run, she hedged, "It was nice meeting you and all, but I'm currently running late, so..."

His hand was lightning fast as he grabbed hers, eyes blazing and mouth opened as if on the verge of saying something. He did not utter anything, in the end, but she did reacted badly and kneed him in the gut. As he doubled over in resigned (why resigned?) capitulation, she flung his hand away and ran off at full speed. Before losing sight of him, though, she looked back and shouted, amused and more than a bit exhilarated:

"That's why even the cats hate you, Ojii-san!"

His expression of confused nostalgia ended up haunting her dreams for days.

* * *

He turned out to be the teacher intern. Which wasn't all that much better from being an actual teacher. Five days in and already the rumors of his outstanding attractiveness, unreasonable stringency, and almost theatrical brooding silence were all over the place. He was three-four years her senior, but graduated high school two years early and was currently interning at her school for future employment here as well. She found the entire thing hilarious, why would anyone of his pedigree want to work as an intern for the position of PE teacher? Besides, regardless of all the pretty words spoken about him in petty corners of the corridors, all of the impressions he left her were the dull absentmindedness and inept social maneuvers.

She kept trying to remember whether they have met somewhere. He was striking enough (in all his dumb glory) that she really would have remembered. Her sister seemed intent to believe that she was currently entering her rebellious phase, which explained the thoughtful silence, occasional grumpiness, and dazed look. She was not, nor was she love sick, like her neighbor Mitsuri were so set on believing. Mitsuri was also one year her senior, and had always been of the mindset that even the crazed neighbor's dog was insanely cute and that even two relatively chipped cups were having a romantic affair with each other. Shinobu loved her, she did, but sometimes Mitsuri's pink-tinted outlook of life gave her the pip.

* * *

One thing was different after meeting him, though. She dreamed often now, just like how it was back when she was a kid. Chaotic dreams, near nightmares, even. She barely remembered anything when waking up, but the residue feeling of rage and the dull ache of longing did not ebbed away.

There were butterflies, she recalled hazily, beautiful and mournful. There were wisteria, flying in the wind and covering the sky. There were absent blue eyes that looked permanently forlorn. There were laughters, joyful and carefree and sweet in a garden filled with white bed sheets and the smell of medicine. There were blood, too, and rain, and darkness the likes of which would swallow one whole. The tightened feeling of being suffocated stayed with her and seemed keen on never leaving.

Kanae worried, as she was prone to do. She asked if Shinobu wanted to talk about it. Shinobu, being Shinobu, smiled and said that she did not.

She got wary, though, of that boy-man-idiot of an intern teacher, and went out of her way to avoid him. Perhaps then the dreams would go away.

* * *

It did not, unfortunately.

What it did, though, was dealing her a resounding slap on the face, and made her despairingly realize that she was, in fact, one of the universe's favorite chew toys.

The more she avoided him, the more often he crossed paths with her.

She would go to the quiet balcony behind the Home Economics classroom for a calm and private lunch and he would have already been there squatting low with a pitifully lost expression on his face and the look of an eccentric idol running from a mob. He would then stared at her with those confused but elated blue eyes and proceeded to initiate some very awkward greetings and small talks. She almost considered never coming back to that balcony, but goddamn it it was _her_ spot! Why was she the one who needed to go away? He didn't have enough common sense to notice it, apparently, since he ended up coming back everyday, looking less and less harried and more and more content - in that creepily blank way of his. (She had heard of talks that he was growing into his shoes, a tyrannical PE teacher waiting for the day he could actually be promoted into one). They only had lunch together, barely talking and not-at-all bonding. But stills.

She would come to school early in the hope that he wouldn't be at the gate till there were stragglers about, only to be greeted by an armed-to-the-teeth Tomioka-sensei looking ready to race through the street catching latecomers or violators of dress code. He seemed surprised to see her (as he always did when seeing her, interestingly enough), but immediately softened his menacing eyes (nice try, but she wondered if she was the only one who saw the dazed puppy gearing up to act all mature and stringent) and gave a slow nod as greetings before assuming his previous stance.

She would choose to stand way behind in the PE class, hiding herself from his gaze behind the scrawny back of Gyutaro, only to have Urokodaki-sensei (their current PE teacher, half way through mid-life crisis and one foot away from bliss retirement) instruct Tomioka to stand at the _back_ of the class, to have a better view of everything going on around. He didn't initiate any conversation, thanked the Lords, but the feeling of his gaze following her occasionally was quite enough to make her back itched and burned uncomfortably the entire time.

She would be stopping by the convenient store near her house one fine evening just to find him already standing in front of the magazine stance, looking constipated with indecision and _really_, even she could not find it within herself to breeze through ignoring him.

"Tomioka-sensei, you're obstructing public path, mind." She poked him from the back and plastered her signature smile on her face.

It was somewhat satisfying to see him jump, even though just a tiny bit.

"Kochou." He turned and said, almost placidly. Then immediately, his blank face morphed into one of irritation, "It is too late, Kochou, for a girl your age to wander about alone. What are you doing here?"

It was 8:00 pm, she was at a convenient store, what else would she possibly be doing? Oh, this idiot. (She valiantly ignored the fact that of late all her complaints about him kept turning indulgent inside her mind. Was he growing on her, damn it?)

"Please act like a functional human being of the modern age, sensei. Eight is hardly late, to my general knowledge." She smiled wider, resisting the urge to tease him even more. God, he just made it _so_ tempting, and easy. "Are you looking at erotic materials, sensei? At such a public place, too?"

He was fully facing her now, face turning gradually purple with alarm:

"... No."

And no elaboration whatsoever. Sometimes she truly wondered how he would have survived in society till this age with this much deficiency in social interaction.

"Really now? Then what were you doing, taking so much time in front of the magazine stance and making a public nuisance of yourself?" She asked breezily, head cocked to one side and smile firmly in place.

A beat of silence, then he said, almost resignedly:

"My brother-in-law is bringing siblings and cousins to our place. Elementary kids and middle-schoolers, known for being loud and rambunctious. My sister asked me to go buy something that could keep their mind off of making a mess and interfering in adults's conversation."

That was the most words he had ever said to her, or to anyone, really, in one breath. She digested it slowly and amusedly, before deigning a reply:

"And what possibly make you think that magazines will keep them busy?"

He sagged visibly and sighed:

"I can't go too far, and even kids read magazine, no? Shounen Jump and the likes?"

She laughed in his face, a light, teasing sound, and reached over to shift through the shelves in front of him. Pushing him away with one hand, she waved dismissively:

"I doubt these could hold their attention for long, but I'll help you pick some out. Go over to pick juices and snacks over there."

He stared at her, but strangely enough, did not hesitate to turn around and follow her order like a trained puppy. It was almost cute, how sweet he was acting. (She stopped just in time to be horrified at her thoughts and berated herself for getting away with her musings).

After that encounter, he insisted on walking her home, despite all her protests at the ridiculous hours (it was barely nine! Did he think that they were living in the Meiji period? And even then...) and the possible contrasting paths. The second ended up being a baseless worry, because they were neighbors, not close enough to have apartments in the same building (life could not be that coincidental, mind), but the two buildings were right beside each other, and once again Shinobu lamented at the theatrical drama that was her life. He had just moved there a few months ago, apparently, and was inept enough that not even the neighbors living on the same floor as him know who was living with them, much less her, who lived a building over and wasn't keen on housewives gathering.

They bid each other farewell with her breathing a sigh of relief at the end of awkwardness and him looking as contemplative as he always did (still more like an absentminded moron to her, but anyway).

* * *

She got into the habit of teasing him after that. She decided that since avoiding him had not yielded the result she wanted, then at least she should not limit her own amusement. Besides, his reactions were hilarious, at worst, and ludicrous, at best. At one point or another, he ended up getting all resigned and indulgent at her jokes and nastiness. That ended up riling her up even more. In fact, she teased him too much, too persistently and publicly, that even her sister - cooped up in her infirmary - started noticing.

"Shinobu," she said one day, acting half-uncaring (which wasn't very subtle, all things considered), "What do you remember about my Sex Education for you a few years back?"

Forget subtlety, her sister had officially crossed the distressing line of failed rationality and became the permanent inhabitant of Delusional Town.

"I beg your pardon? Kanae!"

Kanae blinked and gave a tinkling laugh:

"Oh, you know. I just want to make sure, is all. But you do know that it is illegal for Tomioka-san to lay a hand on you at this point in time, no?"

Shinobu felt her head swelled up into a purple balloon. She was just teasing him, just that! How could Kanae even jumped straight from teasing to fornicating?

"There is nothing between us!" She gritted out, feeling indignation rose to the back of her throat. (That, and just a tiny bit of embarrassed defensiveness, too.)

Kanae's lips just twitched into a soft, teasing smile, and she hummed nonsensically before turning away.

Mitsuri, too, hounded her like an oversized puppy. "Gosh you two are soooo cute! Are you sure he hasn't asked you on a date yet? Reckon he was social inept enough not to know what it is? Do you want to take the matter into your own hands?"

Shinobu's response to her tended to be solemn silence. She wouldn't know what or when to put in anything when Mitsuri was in one of her excited gushing mood. That, and she believed with certainty that whatever excuses she gave, Mitsuri would just believe in her own perception of them, anyhow.

* * *

Later, Shinobu ignored the embarrassing incidents entirely, since she had bigger things to worry about. Her dreams had gotten worse of late. She would randomly get caught in a vision even when she was awake and was walking across the school hall. Sometimes when she looked at her sister, the young woman no longer wore the laboratory coat, but a beautiful haori with patterns similar to butterfly wings. Occasionally she would look at the Art teacher and felt like hitting him over the head just because he seemed overlap with the noisy man that had almost kidnapped her loved ones for unreasonable purposes in her dreams. The blond, rambunctious Math teacher that had been spending an unholy amount of time around her sister also looked eerily like he would fit perfectly with a white and red haori and a sword the color of the flame. Even Mitsuri, at times, appeared as if she was wearing a scandalous black uniform with green tights even though she was actually sporting her PE uniform and was just there to deliver some of her mother's snacks.

Worst yet, though, were Tomioka-sensei.

It wasn't just that he overlapped with the man in the two-colored haori from her dreams (the absentmindedness, the unbelievable awkwardness, the resignations to her teasings, the forlorn silence,...) but also the fact that she felt like she was the version of herself in the dream when she was with him. Sometimes, as she was poking him, she was almost able to see the sleeves of the butterfly wings haori covering her arms instead of the usual blazer sleeves. Some other time, when he said something distinctly stupid and she would feel herself reaching unconsciously for the hilt of a sword (that weren't there) to knock it over his head so that he could see the stupidity of it as well.

She even started seeing illusions of pools of blood on the floor, dead bodies where there were only trashes, and hearing the sounds of battle echoing at the strangest moments of the day. The entire thing stressed her out, understandably so. She lost focus easily, she could barely sleep, her face sunken and the bags under her eyes got big enough to store coins in them.

Annoyingly enough, Tomioka-sensei was the first one to notice her changes. Granted, she did accidentally lose consciousness in front of him like a bloody damsel in distress right in the middle of the hall in the third floor. Stills, to think that she had fainted in front of _him_, of all people. (Did that mean that she felt that safe and relaxed around him? Ridiculous.)

It was during that dramatic episode that she dreamt a proper dream this time.

* * *

_For once, everything happened in a chronicle order. She was of a child's height, first, running around with her sister (in a pretty haori and kimono) in a small garden full of flowers, their laughters ringing like bells and the light shone so bright she could not imagine anything being able to darken the image. Then, before the echoes of the laugh can disappear fully alongside the image of two girls chasing each other around, she was on her knees, blood in her hand and tears streaming her face. Her sister was hugging the body pieces of someone, no, two someone, and was hiccupping in anguish and grief. She herself was folding into herself, debating fervently whether to feel angry or terrified. She felt both, but that meant little, because they were there and no amount of feelings she exerted could bring her parents back to life. Her tears blurred her vision, and before the 'she' inside the dream could utter a wretched, keening sounds at the back of her throat, the images shifted again. _

_It went worse. Her sister was the one in blood now, haori drenched in blood and rain, and she was hissing, wailing, and cursing with every breaths. She gathered Kanae in her arms, putting their foreheads together, and getting choked on her own tears. The world was ending, she could feel the pain vibrated deep inside her bones, _how many things would you take from me, Gods? How many demons must I kill for this pain to be soothed?

_God did not answer, and Shinobu felt her heart hardened. All, even with all of them dead and maimed and tortured, her pain would still be there. Nothing could save her. Not from this unending anger. _

_Until he came along. The memories -yes, she realized now, in her slumber and the residue rage still roiling in her veins - shifted to the first time she realized that her heart still beat, after all, regardless of all the pain and anger. _

_It hadn't been the first time they met each other. They had met before, though she could not remember clearly, just that it was in the infirmary, and he had been in bandages and stupidity. She had known a lot of people of that kind back then, so he hadn't exactly made an impression. He did make an impression, though, when being introduced amongs Pillars and Apprentices as the Water Pillar just five months into his enlistment. It was unprecedented, at that moment. But it was just that. He wasn't in her life back then, and neither of them strived to change that fact. Then her sister died, and for the first few years, it seemed that he was everywhere. He was the one assigned to work with her after she joined the rank of Pillars, he was the one bleeding on the white sheets of the infirmary when it was her shift to take care of the patient, he was the one picking at his chopsticks at her favorite ramen shop at the rare moment she spared to drop in. She got used to him enough that the lack of him occasionally made her forlorn. _

_She dreamt of teasing him, much like at the moment. She dreamt of bugging him, and Gods what a hilarious affair it was. She dreamt of nights sitting above the roof in comfortable silence, of death anniversaries of loved ones spent together, of quiet roads on missions where only her teasing laughs and his noncommittal grunts were heard, of that out-of-character hug just a few days before the great battle with Muzan. He was near delirious with pain, back then, but she would like to believe that it wasn't just fuzziness that prompted him to do so. It was then, she remembered, that she finally realized that he meant a lot to her, that her heart still beat, and that it was too damn late already for her to recognize that (she was filled to the brim with poison, and just days away from avenging her sister). She did think of him the first time she took the poison, but she thought of her sister more, so she craved. She did think of him when that filthy son-of-a-bitch ingested her into his system. It was just a brief flash of his image underneath her eyelids, and oh how she wanted to tear up right there. She did not, in the end, since Douma did not deserve to see grief or pain on her face. Stills, she could not help herself, and she whispered quietly as she sunk into the darkness: _"I'm sorry."

* * *

Shinobu jerked awake with a start, eyes blurring with unshed tears and throat bobbing in grief. She saw the white, bright light of the infirmary ceiling first. Her sister was not there, though, and she almost thought that she was all alone in the room, with how quiet it was.

Until Tomioka-sensei poke his head into her vision, looking both worried and chastised.

Finally, his reactions to her before now made sense. Someone had been keeping a terrible secret.

She did not deign to move, just stared at him, blinked slowly, then stretched her lips into a Cheshire grin:

"PE coach, really, Tomioka-san? Have you not been hated enough back then that you just have to choose a profession detested by everyone?"

And so it started again.

This time, at least, let them have a happy ending of their own.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you all for the kind comments. I do apologise for not being able to update more often. At first I want this to be a pure Giyushino love story. However, as most other relationships and dynamics are from the same universe as the main pairing (This is now AU as frick, btw), I will put all the POVs here. Don't worry too much just yet, though. Giyushino is still the main pairing and other characters will focus on their relationship (or the ridiculous attempt at one) a lot as well.

* * *

Tanjirou had always felt like he was missing something. Something important. Something _fundamental_. Which was absolutely ridiculous, since he, out of all people, did not have the luxury of blaming the lack of memory on a too-thorough reincarnation. There had been no reincarnation for him, after all.

* * *

He had died a spectacular death when Muzan flooded his veins with his revolting blood. And had waken up as something else. Something both pretty and disgusting, both powerful beyond measures and vulnerable beyond reasons. He had woken up in the shade, his sister (smelling so good and delicious and...what the fuck?) crying and trying her best to shield his body from the sunlight with her tiny tiny body. Voices of surrounding kakushis screeching his names in hoarse hiccups and really, if he was not already dying, all the noises they were making would send him off soon. Why...why was everything so loud?!

He knew why a few minutes later, when Nezuko leaned in even closer to cover him properly and his throat seized up with the thirst and hunger the likes of which he had never experienced before. Reflexively, Tanjirou bit down on his lips, hard, canines drawing blood and veins popping out on his forehead. _Oh_. Oh. Oh...

Muzan. That filthy filthy monster, he just had to have the last laugh, no?

At the very least, the sunlight did not hurt him, as proven after prolonged exposure to it the very first day of his turned existence. He was even well enough to crawl his way to a dying Tomioka and bid him farewell while trying his best not to worry the man even though his thirst and hunger and discomfiture were gnawing at him like knifes. He didn't wake up in time to say his farewell to Kanroji-san, Iguro-san and Himejima-san was already a slump of body when he got to him. He forgot his starvation in his anguish and grief for the embraced couple, forgot how much his insides roiled and ached to burst out of his skin as the sadness of Himejima's drying tears spreaded across his limbs. Why? He asked again, why did all the kindest, brightest and greatest of their time needed to fall? What would they have become, how much greatness would they have offered the world if Muzan had never happened?

But Muzan had happened. And so here they were.

Muzan... Lord, how much of Muzan's blood he had consumed? He felt...strong, really strong, strong enough that it was disgusting. Tanjirou couldn't help it, he snatched the nearest blade and swiped at his neck. This was revolting. How could he live on like this, with that monster's blood and thirst thumping through his veins? He felt dirty just thinking about it.

The blade was knocked out of his hand before it could draw blood. Inosuke's hand was shattering his wrist (the disgusting thing was still healing _all the while_) and Nezuko was in his face. His sister was raging, snarling, and oh, he had forgotten how beautiful a human she was. She was phenomenal as a demon, true, but there was something real and grounded in her beauty as a human. Something that reminded him of home and lullaby and the habitual homie scent of charcoal deep in the mountain. He barely caught what she was saying, so stuck on her inviting scent and the hazy realization that his baby sister was a human again. Human. Which meant she would be in danger from him, too. And so he flailed and tried to create more distant between them. Inosuke snarled and kept him in place, though.

"Tanjirou!" Nezuko growled, voice fierce and angry, hands holding his face and forehead touching his tightly, "Enough, brother! I have finally found you again. Do you think I would let anyone take you away from me? Not even you, brother, not even you!"

Just that, and then he was crying and she was crying and they were holding each other tight enough he worried he might crush her bones.

Inosuke was crying, too, and he heard Zenitsu's wails somewhere behind and Kanao's quiet hiccups a few feet away. How could he think about leaving them all behind to clean up this mess?

* * *

The cure didn't work on him. Which wasn't entirely a surprise, judging from the nasty sense of humor Kibutsuji Muzan had. It lessened his raving hunger and restored his sanity to a nearly permanent state of stabilization, though, and made him humane enough to refrain from self-harm and suicide again.

However, it did not change his discomfiture and disgust at what he had become. After the brief and uncomfortable meeting with Ubuyashiki Kiriya, Tanjirou had taken to hole himself up in his house, limiting all contacts with the outside world. Regardless of whether or not his hunger was potent, regardless of how well he did under the sun, the guilt and self-hate still boiled up his throat so fervently that he really could not plague the world with his likes.

Nezuko stayed with him throughout. The siblings seemed almost to return to the old days, not counting the fact that their entire family is dead and he himself had become a monster. She gave up on persuading him halfway into the second week, and seemed to be content with taking care of him day in, day out and looking for ways to turn him back. His friends visited often, at first, worrying sick about his state of mind. Inosuke fairly raided the snowy field to the ground in his anger at not being able to pull Tanjirou out of his blanket (He returned a few days later to repeat the entire process on his own). Zenitsu cried a lot, though not necessarily fearful or distressed tears anymore. He accepted that his friend needed time and just shed tears for the sake of being true to character. He whined and proposed to Nezuko, even though each time she only smiled and declined politely. (That didn't deter him from trying again the next day). Kanao came and went like a ghost, sipping her tea quietly next to his bedside and eyes fixed on his stubborn form. She smiled at him and replied when spoken to, but did not initiate any conversation and looked as if she was waiting for something. He knew what that something was, and at one point in time, he would have wanted more than anything to give it to her. That point had passed, though. And so they sat together, quietly, reminiscently, and sadly.

Nezuko asked him about it, once, when the two of them were sitting together on the roof of their house. She asked why he did not tell Kanao the thing that they all knew he wanted to do. He had laughed (a bit throaty because he was just only getting used to the motion again) and patted her head:

"The likes of me? She deserves better."

And she did, really. Kanao deserved a husband who was warm and kind and loved her. A husband who could embrace her without the fear of accidentally crushing her. A husband who could give her children and grow old together with her. Someone he no longer was.

Nezuko was quiet after that, looking as if she wanted to cry but really could not. So she just surged up and hugged him, gathering his head into her arms and stayed there for a long long time without words.

* * *

His friends visit waned, after the first few years. It wasn't their fault, really. The swordmen that used Breaths were expending their life forces to perfect the techniques. They died young and their health deteriorated at a rate proportionate to the amount of power they had exerted.

So it was time for Tanjirou to visit them instead.

He got over himself, and visited Zenitsu and Inosuke, illness on-again-off-again at the house at the foot of the mountain where Tanjirou and Nezuko presided. Zenitsu cried and laughed and whined about how Nezuko should have said 'yes' back when he was of able body. (That made her cry, but still she smiled and apologized politely with wet eyes). Inosuke took of his mask, alternating between making a ruckus and laying face first on the futon with labored breath. Tanjirou cried again, though he tried not to do it in front of them. Nezuko laid her head on his shoulder and wept when they were out of hearing range:

"Why, brother?" She asked, not really expecting an answer, "Why is life so hard on good people?"

She had said that before, he remembered, and said it now again, because they could almost see the end of the road just up ahead. A few more years, was that what they had with their friends?

They visited Kanao, too, at the Butterfly Mansion. At one point, Nezuko made an excuse to leave them alone and left with Aoi and the girls. The silence was almost oppressive. Then Kanao suddenly said:

"I understood, you know. I do." Then she turned to look him in the eyes. That was the first time Tanjirou could feel that she was looking _at_ him and not _through_ him into a distant somewhere. "If I will die soon anyway..." Her smile was heartbreaking, "Tanjirou, if Inosuke and I have a child and I die before he or she can grow up, will you at least watch over him?"

He felt like he was struck by lightning. But he really shouldn't. She wanted to be a mother. She wanted a husband/partner to love her and can divert only attention to her in the few years that she had left. How could he fault her for that? So Tanjirou smiled brightly and felt as though that part of himself was returning:

"If he loves you and you love him, then I will give the child all the love I have been holding for its parents. Don't worry."

* * *

It was a year later when Tanjirou woke up from a dazed and drugged sleep that confused him profusely.

He could not have let anyone get under his guard, even if he wanted to (the demon sense was inconvenient that way), so what was it with the headache and the blood loss and the hazy feeling of being duped? Then he smelled Nezuko. The smell was not the human Nezuko smell. It was sharper, tangier, even a bit...dangerous. Everything clicked.

And he surged up to his feet, ignoring the disorientation and held her from where she was laying unconscious on the ground.

"Stupid!" He hissed, tears brimming now, "Stupid little sister! Why?!" He did not spend half of his youth fighting and killing things just so she could do this to herself again.

As if his words woke her up, Nezuko slowly cracked an eyelid:

"Brother?... sorry. I just cannot bear the thought of leaving you alone."

And he would, would he not? A human Nezuko would grow old and die, just like his friends. And then he would be all alone in this big wide world. All alone.

She was coughing, eyes sharpening into demon's and nose flaring as if trying to control the hunger and loss of sanity.

"I was... it was hopeless, brother." She hissed, halfway through the transformation, "I tried everything, experimenting all Tamayo's and Shinobu's potions and looking up every kinds of books. Brother, we have tried everything, remember? I have put more medicine into your body than we could count, and yet, and yet..." She was tearing up now, fangs grinding together and face scrunching up in pain, "If you cannot be human again, if we cannot stay together as humans... I would rather we survive as demons instead."

Tanjirou made a keening sound at the back of his throat and gathered her in his arms, face tucked at the crook of her neck and tears spilling freely.

He hated that a part of himself felt relief. Relief that he can avoid at least one goodbye.

* * *

A few years later, they attended Kanao's and Zenitsu's funeral together. Inosuke went first, a few years back, and Kanao had been devastated with grief. They could never really get used to it, regardless of how many loss they experienced. By the times all his friends were under the ground, Tanjirou was barely thirty of age and his friends' son was only three. It had been difficult for Kanao to have children, at first. It had taken her five years of experimenting on both herself and Inosuke for their health to be well enough for children.

The boy was inhumanly pretty, with all the best features from his parents. He was a rambunctious kid, much like Inosuke, but intuitive deep down and smart enough to render Tanjirou and Nezuko speechless sometimes. They tried their best to bring him up, teaching him both the letters and the sword and a little bit of medicine that Nezuko knew from the years trying to turn him back. The boy was truly a wonder child, the accumulative hope that his entire generation had harbored.

Time passed, the boy grew up, went to school, left the house, got married and had children of his own. Those children had children of their own, as well, and lived their fulfilling lives in place of their ancestors.

They never visited, because Tanjirou had forbidden them from doing so. The siblings were demons. Theirs was a harrowing life riddled with pain and disgust and distrust, so it was best the children didn't get involved with that.

Every two decades, they assumed new identities to continue their lives at the house. They faked deaths often, and after those deaths, perhaps a mother with a child would return as the daughter of 'Tanjirou' and raise her son over there for twenty years. Then she would die in an accident and a few months later the son - all grown up now - would return home with a bundle in his arm swathing a baby girl. Sometimes they left the house for half a decades or so, travelling all across Japan as they wished. It was easier on voyages. They could be siblings, or couples, or parent and child, and no one would be the wiser. They grieved, all through the century, but meandered down as time passed by.

It should have been fine, for Tanjirou. He had become accepting of late. Stills, there was a part of him that felt keenly that _something_ was missing. It took years for him to ponder the thought, and he crashed into a wall every time.

Then, one day, when he was walking down the street with Nezuko in one of their trips to Tokyo, he stopped in his track and found out what it was.

Before his eyes, a young man in PE uniform with a magnificent scowl was herding students from the front gate of a high school. His stomach roiled painfully, and he realized, belatedly, that he had never ever considered reincarnation into the equation that was his life. Nezuko turned to look at what he was seeing, and with a gasp, both of them started bawling, despite themselves.

"Bro..brother!" She hiccuped into the palms of her hands, eyes still glued to the scene before them, "Are you seeing what's I'm seeing? Is this a dream?"

As if to answer her question, a purple blur and a young girl with butterfly hairpin breezed past 'Tomioka-san', leaning over with a mischievous smile and whispered something that made his eyes widen and he himself turn an interesting shade of red for just a second or so. The girl gave him a poke, then laughed wholeheartedly and skipped past him with a wink.

Tanjirou felt like getting to his knees and praising the God. It was a miracle! It was!

"Nezuko, dear, this is no dream." He said, voice hoarse and eyes bubbling in tears, "How would you feel about becoming a high school student?"

* * *

This time around, he would uproot hell and heaven before allowing them to be taken from him again.


End file.
